Into the End
by The Almighty Authorettes
Summary: There had always been more to Murdoc and 2D's relationship then most people knew about. But something happened after the Apollo shows to change all that... Will they ever be the same after the years of separation and pain? Murdoc/2D, will follow the plot.
1. Broken

AN: We own nothing. This idea is mine, and the first chapter was written entirely by me. Authorette Stalker may or may not be joining in for latter chapters. And... That's about it. -Authorette Lighthouse

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**Broken**

Blackened eyes stared out the window blankly as the former Gorillaz frontman stewed in his own head. How long had it been since he'd last seen Murdoc? He hadn't even heard from the man until a few weeks before... Not since the night after the Apollo shows back in 2006. He sighed, closing his eyes briefly as he thought about that night, and what had led up to it...

It had all started the day he'd awoken from the coma. All of the sudden he was sitting in the car with a stranger as the man who had apparently caused both the injury that put him in the coma and the one that had taken him out of it again drove him back home. He had been looking in the side mirror, examining his strange new eyes, when he had seen it... Uncle Norm's Organ Emporium, the place where this had all started.

"Pull over," he said, pointing. The man seemed about to protest when he saw what had caught the younger man's attention. Grumbling, he obliged, pulling up beside the store and letting him out.

The store was boarded up and dark, something that confused him. Hadn't the man mentioned he'd been in a coma for the past nine months? How could the place still be closed?

"Wot 'appened?" he asked, turning to the man, who was getting out of the car, "Don' tell me i's been closed this whole time..."

"Nah," the man said, walking up, "Unrelated incident, mate... Someone broke in las' week, I think... Apparently there's still some shit goin' on, tryin' ta ged the winda fixed or somethin' like that."

He nodded, looking at the lonely building. He had the oddest urge to go inside, as if it would help him sort out everything that had happened since that day nine months before... He walked around to the back, ignoring the man who followed a few steps behind him. In silence he retrieved the spare key from the eaves and let himself in, wandering though the familiar place as he sorted out all the vivid images in his head.

"Christ, look at this dump," the man said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, "Whoever decided ta rob this place woz doin' 'em a huge favor... Wish it'd been me..."

"Wozn't tha' wot you were doin' when ya hit me the firs' time?" he said, starting to mess with one of the keyboards absentmindedly.

"Well... Yeah, I guess..." the man said, voice trailing off as he watched the man play.

"Ya play keyboards?" the man said suddenly a moment later, taking a step closer.

"Wot?" he said, blinking, "Oh, right... Er... Yeah, I do... Why?"

"'Ow well?"

"Er... Pretty good... Ya din't answer my question..."

"Do you sing?" The man looked almost hungry now, walking ever closer.

"Er... A bit, yeah... Why do you wan' ta-"

"Wan' ta be in my band, mate?"

He blinked. "Wot?"

"My band! I's gonna be a hit, mate, once I find the right people..."

"An'... You wan' me ta be in it... After ya hit me in the 'ead wif yer car... Twice"

"Well, the second time I din't hit ya wif the car, did I?"

"I guess if ya wan' ta split hairs..."

"Look, it doesn't matter... You'd be a great frontman fer my band. Wot do ya say, mate?"

He sighed, looking the man in the eyes. He looked so excited by it all.

"Fine," he said, "Why not?"

In response, the man kissed him. He blinked rapidly for a moment before stepping away, confused.

"Wot'd you do tha' for?" he exclaimed in surprise. The man looked confused himself.

"I... 'Ave no idea..."

The next few months passed by in a blur. First a customer from the shop he'd known for a long time, Paula, had not only started dating him but had joined the band as their guitarist. It was odd though... She'd only started dating him after she'd heard about the band, and wasn't terribly good... He suspected she was just trying to ride their coat tails to fame, but he couldn't find a valid reason to dump her. They also got Russel, an american drummer who was not only brilliant, but had an extensive knowledge of music and rapping ghosts living in his body. They were signed and even recorded their first song, Ghost Train. Everything was going so well... The he found out about Murdoc, Paula, and stall number three.

"Why'd you do it?" he said, confronting Murdoc in the man's winnebago that night.

"Wot're ya talking about, dullard?" the bassist said, rolling his eyes.

"Why'd ya sleep wif Paula?" he said, taking a step in and closing the door behind him.

"Why else? She's a bird, I like birds," he said with a nonchalant shrug... Too casual.

"I fink i's sumfink else," he said, leaning against the wall by the door.

"Fine... She woz a rubbish guitarist an' I wanted ya ta dump 'er so we could ged rid of her."

"Good reason, but tha's not it," he said, shaking his head.

"Wot the hell, faceache!" he exclaimed, advancing with a look of irritation, "Wot do ya wan' me ta say, hm? Wot do ya think the real reason is?"

"I fink it has sumfink ta do wif tha' kiss you gave me," he said, his soft voice seeming to reverberate endlessly in the space between them. The older man looked taken aback.

"Yer smarter then ya look," the man said after a few moments, voice low, "Awright, ya wanna know the real reason, mate? Yer too good fer her. Yer... She was jus' tryin' ta ride yer coat tails, mate! She din't even like you! I've been havin' ta practically fight 'er off since day one!"

"And ya wan' me fer yerself," he said softly.

"Damn right I wan' ya fer myself!" the Satanist exclaimed without thinking, realizing too late what he had said.

"Forged I said anythin'" the older man said quickly, backing away.

"No."

In the space of a few moments and steps, everything changed. He kissed the man who'd hurt him and fascinated him, pulling him closer. He never did know what it was that had possessed him to do that... The small amount of alcohol in his system at the time, some pent up emotions, or both? Who knew... All that was certain was the kisses growing feverish as he was pulled toward the bed with the purple sheets.

The next morning he awoke tangled in sheets and skin, wrapped in the bassist's arms. He was sore, satisfied, ashamed, content, and confused... What had come over him? What was going to happen now? He was answered quickly.

"Ged out," the bassist said roughly, throwing him out, embarrassment and confusion in his own features, "An' don' tell anyone about this... Ya do I'll beat ya within an inch of yer life." He ran to his room, not daring to ask questions for risk of being spotted. It had been a shameful moment. And yet...

Throughout their entire career the confusing 'relationship' continued. Every so often they'd end up in bed together, adding yet another instance to the growing list of things they didn't talk about. And, over the course of the years, he began to realize he felt more then lust for the older man. It started happing more and more often, and each time he felt less and less ashamed and confused by it. It all came to a head the night after the Apollo shows...

They were having sex in the hotel room, something now typical of nights when they were alone together. In the heat of the moment he said something, something he'd been thinking for awhile but hadn't thought he'd say...

"I love ya Muds," he panted, eyes widening when he realized what he had said. The other man looked surprised, hesitating for a moment before continuing. He tried not to let it bother him... Maybe he was just waiting until after. But even when they were both spent some time later, laying in a sweaty heap of limbs, the bassist said nothing. Every second that the older man didn't say anything, he could feel his heart ache a little more. He thought he'd bring it up the next morning, but when he woke up, the other man was long gone without a single word of goodbye. He had cried then, one of the few times in his adult life. He couldn't help it... The pain in his chest was just too unbearable. So he'd weeped, deciding then that he'd never let the man hurt him like that again.

He didn't hear from the Satanist again until a few weeks before, when he'd gotten a phone call out of the blue.

"'Ey mate!" the familiar voice said with uncharacteristic cheerfulness the second he'd picked up, "Jus' the man I woz lookin' for!"

"Wot do'ya wan', Murdoc?" he asked with a sigh.

"Wot do I wan'? Common mate, don' act like tha'..."

"Jus' tell me wot ya wan'," he said, getting a bit impatient.

"Fine. I wan' the band back tagether... I've got a bran' new studio..."

"Wot happened to Kong?"

"Er... I burned it down fer the insurance money... It woz fallin' apart anyway. 'Sides, the new place is ten times better, an' on our very own island, an' a lot of great material already written... Wot do ya say, mate? Ya ready ta live the life of a rock star again?"

"No."

"Wot? Wot're ya sayin' mate?"

"'M not goin' wif ya, Murdoc. I've had enough of you an' all tha'... 'Sides, I 'ave my own life now."

"Wot, workin' fer yer dad again?"

"No... Well, yeah, but only on weekends. 'M gettin' a law degree."

"Really? Tha's surprisin'... Come on, mate, don' say you don' miss it..."

"I do, bu' not enough ta deal wif you again."

"Look, if this is 'bout wot 'appened after the Apollo shows..."

"'M not talking about it, Murdoc," he said quickly, "No means no."

There was a long pause. "You'll come 'round," he said gruffly before hanging up.

Several similar calls happened over the following weeks, and he said no every time. He wasn't going to let it happen again... The man had broken his heart, and it was still aching... He would _not_ let it happen again.

Suddenly, the man changed his tone.

"Look, mate," the bassist said in the latest call, "I've been thinkin' 'bout wot ya said an'... Look, 'm going ta London tomorrow ta look at a flat. Come an' talk ta me, maybe we can work somethin' out..."

It was surprising, hearing the older man willing to compromise like this. "Awright, I'll meet you there," he said grudgingly, "Give me the address..."

And so he was here, in the mostly empty flat, looking out the window as he waited for the man he hadn't seen in years, who had broken his heart. Why was he doing this? Why was he seeing this man again?

Suddenly, he smelled something odd on the air. He sniffed, trying to figure out what it was... Valium gas? His eyes widened as he realized what was happening. _Murdoc_, he thought as he started to fall foreword, _What've you... Done this... Time...?_


	2. Happy and Lonesome

AN: Hey all! Thanks for the review, Moon! This chapter was mainly written by Authorette Stalker, with additions and edits by Authorette Lighthouse. Chapter 3 is in the works! Also, all chapters are going to be song titles or lyrics, only slightly edited. Try to guess them all! ^^

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**Happy and Lonesome**

Murdoc knew exactly why he'd done it--that kiss, all those years ago, the one that started everything… Of course, he hadn't exactly known at the time, but in retrospect everything got clearer... Hindsight is always 20-20, isn't it? The thing that caused it, though he'd never admit it, was that he'd had a vague attraction to the man for awhile. And it didn't start during the coma, though the forced time together didn't help anything. No, it hadn't started when the dullard was in the coma. It was before.

You didn't attempt to ram-raid a shop without knowing its contents. It just turned out that Stu-Pot was one of those contents. Murdoc had been watching him for awhile… Well, watching the shop, anyway. Stu was just in it. On the weekends… On the day he had decided he wanted to do it, despite Saturday being their busiest business day.

Hitting the blue-haired song-bird was just a bonus, in his opinion. He'd been laughing his ass off, not because he found the situation particularly funny, but because of the pure irony of it. The guy he'd been scoping out was the one he had hit with his stolen car. Just as well. The subconscious attraction had led to some rather odd behaviour on his part anyway. And it all worked out in the end, just like his contract had said it would.

But it hadn't really worked out, had it? The attraction never really faded... In fact, it grew stronger. Yeah, the fame was great, and as much as he loathed himself for it, he enjoyed the nights alone with the singer. The times when they both knew no one would be in the carpark, or when they were in a hotel room together, and the others had gone shopping, or had a separate room… Hell, he even missed those times.

He wouldn't have had them if 2D hadn't caught on so quickly. He both hated and thanked the singer for that. The man had seen right through his real reasons behind sleeping with his girl... He had been jealous and hurt, though he barely admitted it to himself, let alone anyone else. Not to mention he could see the girl was just using him, clear as day. He'd thank him for it, in the long run, he reasoned. And what had it led to? a confusing, though highly satisfying, night together, and the doorway to more wild nights (and occasionally days).

Murdoc had always known that the pretty-boy had more than just a physical attraction to him, though it escaped him as to why. The bassist would be the first to admit there was nothing attractive about his personality, that was part of the reason why he didn't attempt anything lasting... If he got into a relationship with somebody, they'd see him for the manky old wanker he was. That wouldn't do, would it? It was best not to get emotionally involved with anyone. So now he had the perfect set up--someone he could regularly screw, so scared of what Murdoc would do if he told that he'd never dare ask the Satanist to commit. He didn't let himself think of how much more satisfying it was. Everything was working perfectly.

Then the dullard had had to go and ruin it all by saying the three words he had dreaded. The "I love you" comment was too much. He didn't stop, of course, but he didn't plan on letting an emotion like that grow. If the singer was saying it in the heat of the moment, who knew how long it'd be before he wanted to say it during the day, during those not-so-private times when Murdoc just wanted to be Murdoc, and not be in a relationship? The feelings had to stop… So he left. Sometimes though, in the depths of his own loneliness, he'd wonder if there hadn't been more to his running away... If he hadn't been, maybe, afraid. Afraid of having to confront his own feelings for the younger man.

That morning after the Apollo shows, he woke up early, and left the other man asleep in the hotel room. There had been a twinge of something in his gut when he saw the man, peacefully sleeping, but with an heartbreakingly (for anyone besides Murdoc Niccals, of course) sad expression. He almost convinced himself it was just indigestion. No mater what, though, he left. He didn't know where he was going, what he planned on doing when he got there, or how he'd pay for it all, but he had to go somewhere, somehow, with someone's money. So he took on an alias and caught a plane back to the UK, stopping by Kong to pick up some quick cash by putting it up for sale.

Of course, it didn't sell. The place was a piece of junk... Who'd want it, except perhaps a fan? It wasn't a far leap from selling it to destroying it, so Murdoc just burnt it down and blamed some kids so he could collect insurance money on it. Grabbed a couple helicopters with the help of some mates, and flew off to find… Well, something else. He flew around aimlessly for awhile, making stops in random cities. He slowly started to realize there was nothing on land for him, not really. The others took off with the other copters, one by one, leaving him alone. That was fine. He'd cut the fuel lines, anyway.

But it did mean he was alone now. Totally and utterly alone.

He periodically stopped back at Kong, storing away any savable materials and items in a public storage place, flying around in the helicopter and hoping something would pop out at him. That seemed to go on forever... Then he saw it. A giant heap of rubbish floating in the ocean. A perfect place to hide. It didn't take long to fashion it into a new studio, and he didn't really give a thought to the fact that he'd gone from living next to a landfill, to living on one. Even the irony of it didn't mater to him.

Years of anonymity had a way of messing with a person… He'd been on the run for awhile now, and the only way to escape the people who were chasing him was by constantly being someone else. And he was. Always someone new, a new disguise... But the whole time he kept thinking about that other self. The one he had left in the hotel room in New York. The one that missed 2D. The thing was that he knew, deep down, that part of him wasn't gone. Buried and dormant, but never gone. And there was only one explanation why, one he didn't like to think was possible.

But besides the few times when he'd drink alone and start to think of the past (age had a way of doing that to a man), he put the thought out of his mind for the next few months. In that time, he managed to finish the studio, and write some new material… He even made a cyborg replica of the guitarist, after a bit of a brush with the underworld, and he could program the drums himself, and he was on bass… But he needed the singer. No mater how he tried to find a way around it, he needed him... And not just for his voice, though he didn't admit that even to himself.

That was when he began calling. At first from Plastic Beach, anchored just out of sight of the Western coast of England. He was ready to pick the blue-haired songbird up as soon as possible... But the other man had refused. Multiple times. Each time, Murdoc thought that he'd be able to convince him, guilt him, bribe him into it, something, and each time he had been disappointed. Nothing worked, and he couldn't help but wonder why... Why was the man so adamant about not bringing the band back? He didn't understand, but there was nothing he could do... So he took the only logical route. He planned to kidnap him.

It had worked of course. The trusting dullard hadn't even expected anything until it was too late. And now the song-bird was stuffed into a large suitcase, in a boat headed to Plastic Beach. The cyborg guitarist training an eye, as well as a few concealed weapons and one not-so-concealed gun, on the suitcase in case of any movement, while Murdoc manned the boat, grinning.

He didn't feel in the least bit guilty for kidnapping the younger man. It was a necessity, and the bassist had had to do a lot of things out of necessity recently. Although… He might've kidnapped the singer anyway… Just to catch up, mind. No other reason... Not because he was lonely or missed him, or had a sneaking suspicion there was more to his leaving then he tried to tell himself. But having an album to record put a practical edge on it all…


	3. Welcome to Plastic Beach

AN: Hey all! Sorry this took so long... We got sidetracked. ^^;; Anyway, this was a pretty even joint effort... Authorette Stalker wrote pretty much all of Murdoc's segments, and I wrote the rest. Enjoy! -Authorette Lighthouse

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**Welcome to Plastic Beach**

How could he have let this happen? How could he have let the man who had broken his heart do this to him? He had to get out, get away... He couldn't let that man stay in his life! 2D's thoughts swirled in the pressing darkness as he slowly woke. How could this have happened? The blue-haired man ran his hands over the container her was in, trying to find a way out. How could he have let that man do this to him? He had promised himself not to let the bassist hurt him again, and now here he was... Kidnapped, back on the path that he was sure would lead to more heartbreak. He kicked up and had to shield his eyes from the sudden, blinding light. The sun was bright here... He sat up, looking around. He was in a suitcase, sitting on a pink beach. He reached down, feeling the ground. It was plastic. Nearby, Noodle unpacked things from a small boat. The ex-frontman's face lit up, and he was about to call out... When she turned and he saw guns sticking out of her body. He cringed away, looking at her in horror.

"Beautiful, idn't she?" a very familiar voice said from behind him, "Made 'er myself... A bit of Noodle's DNA I found on the El Mañana set, and jus' 'bout every weapon I could ged my hands on..."

The younger man turned slowly, looking at the bassist. He'd changed... His skin had turned an even brighter, unnatural shade of green (was there really a natural shade?), and he was wearing what looked to be a captain's get-up: white pants, boots, and a matching hat and jacket.

"You look like a ponce in that," he said, unable to stop the words coming out of his mouth. It wasn't until after he'd said it that he realized offending his captor was probably not a very bright move.

The aging rocker gave 2D an annoyed look, a tell-tale twitch at his upper lip, as his mood took an obviously darker turn. He decided to try changing the subject.

"So, er... Where the hell are we?" he said, trying to stand. His legs were numb... How long had he been in that suitcase?

The bassist suddenly got a wide grin on his face, "Point Nemo! The most deserted spot on the planet-an' you know wot, mate?" the grin became a little more twisted, "I's all mine. Tha's right, MINE!" He stared at the singer for a long moment before speaking again, his good mood suddenly back, "An' you're our newest resident! I's great idn't it? You don't even have to pay rent!" He paused again, looking contemplative, "Well... There is one little favour I gotta ask you mate-you'll 'ave to do some vocals for the new album. I've already laid down the groundwork-got robo-cop over there to do the guitar bits, I did bass, as always..." his voice lowered, and he seemed to be talking more to himself than 2D now, "Still need to ship in a few collaborators, though..." he continued mumbling to himself for a few moments, before jumping slightly, as if he had no clue where he was, "Wot woz I talking about? Oh, right. My island, Plastic Beach! Found it, fixed it up, painted it pink, and settled right in. I's just like home!" He was grinning again by the end of his speech.

2D stared for a moment. That was it... The bassist had finally completely lost it.

"I's not home," he said forcefully, "An' I don' wan' anyfin' to do with you anymore! Take me home... Now!"

Murdoc stared at him, his grin gone. And that's all he did for the next couple of minutes, just stared. Then suddenly, the grin came back full force, "How 'bout I show you to yer new room?"

"No!" the younger man said with growing frustration, finally managing to stand fully, though he was still quite wobbly, "'M not stay here... On this... Rubbish pile! Especially not with you!" he spat the last word out with venom, glaring at the bassist.

The older man paused, looking at him critically, before sighing dramatically. "Well, if ya really don' wan' to stay..." he said, walking behind him, "I guess I'll jus' tell the cyborg ta take you back..."

2D started to turn around, wondering why the bassist was giving in so easily... Of course, it made perfect sense when a rag was pressed to his mouth from behind. The younger man's eyes widened in a panic as he struggled to lift the unyielding hand.

"Wot, you din't think I'd be prepared?" Murdoc taunted darkly in his ear, "Now stop squirmin'... Relax... Breathe..." Even though he struggled, he couldn't help but breathe in the fumes. As his eyesight blurred and darkened and he began to fall limp, he heard one last thing before he lost consciousness.

"Yer not leaving, I'll make sure of that."


End file.
